


As desperate as that sounds...

by Mooney_01



Category: Reylo - Fandom, Star Wars
Genre: F/M, Force Ghosts, Jon Bellion - Freeform, Kinda follows canon, Kylo Ren Redemption, Love, M/M, Reylo - Freeform, Sad, Self Harm, Sex, Snoke is a dick, a lot of sadness, i was inspired by a song at 3 in the morning, kylo becomes ben again, like i love obi wan, maybe obitine, might bring in EU star wars, poe and finn my gay sons, redempton arc, sexxxy times, star wars af, star wars is great
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7071571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooney_01/pseuds/Mooney_01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of collections about how Ben became Kylo and how Kylo became Ben.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As desperate as that sounds...

**Author's Note:**

> This will be sad -- expect the sadness.
> 
>  
> 
> You have been warned -- there is a lot of the sad.

Ben Solo remembered the time he first heard the croaky voice in his mind. He was only seven, barely old enough to comprehend what was going on around him, with long limbs that spiralled from his slim body, bowl like ears too big for his head and a thick curly head of hair that everyone seemed to love to ruffle. The Skywalker/Solo family had been plagued by the Force for years, for generations, and it seemed it wasn’t going to release them so easily.

The young boy had been perched on his bed, pale, bony hands clasped over his ears as he heard Leia and Han scream at each other. Their voices wafting up through their house on Naboo, making Ben cringe and curl further back into his bed.

“Are you leaving again?!” Leia called.

“I can’t do this anymore Leia! This, _us_ \- Ben! It’s too much, I… I need some space.”

The ex-Princess scoffed, “ _You_ , need some space. The nerf-herding smuggler who leaves his Wife and Son all the _kriffing_ them! You! I’m sat here at home, trying to help our tormented _son_ , whilst you gallivant around the bloody galaxy!”

Ben closed his eyes, head hitting the back of his wall.

For as long as he could remember, he had had terrible Night Terrors. Ones of dark ships and bright lights, ones with the clashing of lightsabers and a copper haired man screaming “I loved you!” Where a masked man with heavy breathing would cut down any who opposed him. They always had blood. So much blood. It coated the floor, the walls, falling from the sky like rain, thick, warm and heavy, slowly drowning Ben, dragging him down into the ground like steel weights.

The poor boy felt as if he were slowly suffocating. Whenever a Terror attacked his sleep, his lungs would contract, cutting off oxygen and making his head swoon. He wanted it to end. He was sick of feeling worn out and sore. And there was nearly always a constant feeling of intense pain ebbing away at his head whenever he had them. As if claws were forcing their ways out of these foreign memories and slowly grasping onto his current mind. They would sink in deep, curling painfully around his brain and pull him close -- and when those manacles spoke to him, he hadn’t know the dangers.

So, as his parents continued to exchange venom, a chill ran down his spine as a voice developed in his head.

_Ben Solo._

It was grapsy, like talons scratching on a chalkboard.

_Ben Solo -- Let me help you, you could be so much more._

Cold, alone and weak, he let it in. He opened the gates to his mind, his soul and let the Sith lord stroll inside, let him taint his brain and heart, poison it black with hatred, resentment and pain. Snoke was there when his parents weren’t, whispering to the child about how he could make him into something strong, into something his parents would love -- something he would be proud of. Other nights, he would hiss into his ear, telling him how pathetic he was, unloved, unwanted. How it was his fault for his parents arguing, how he was the one that was driving them apart and that his only hope was by Snoke’s side because no one else could ever love him. Because, who could love one so drawn to the Dark?

Ben Solo remembered the day his parents sent him away.

He was twelve and scared. Tall for his age, towering over other younglings, already the same height of his mother, yet, he relied on her like a baby.

When Leia and Han had discovered about Snoke, they were lost. Neither wanted to lose their son, but neither were prepared to help. His night terrors had progressed into something horrific, they would find him screaming in agonising pain, scratching at himself, spilling his own blood.

They had wanted to help - he couldn’t blame them. They wanted to support their son, but by doing what they thought was right, they had damaged him further. For years, he felt abandoned. In the Jedi School he received dark glances, whispers about how he was the “grandson of Vader,” and how he “would destroy them all,” How his parents had sent him away because he was dangerous and they were scared of him. All he wanted was to go home, but his parents and Uncle Luke had different ideas.

His life had become the constant routine of: meditating, stance training and trying to fight off Snoke whilst dealing with the pressure of trying to fit in. It should’ve been easy, but the universe or the Force or whatever it was had different plans.

At thirteen, Ben had thought he was safe.

He hadn’t had a Night Terror in over six months, his training was being beneficial, Snoke had appeared to leave him alone and he had made friends with a little youngling called Rey.

She was tiny compared to his large stature, with a thick head of hair which Ben notched up into three buns for her every morning, trying his kriffing hardest to catch all the little wisps that seemed to escape his clumsy fingers; but they remained free, framing her face like chestnut swirls of smoke. Unlike him, she wasn’t sickly pale, her skin had a natural glow to it, dotted with freckles.

Rey was his friend, although the seven or so years between them. She would follow him around like his missing shadow, calling out “Benny,” when he was sad, pinching his cheeks when she got close to him and saw he was crying.

She would whine, “ Jedi Masters don’t cry Benny,”

To which he would reply sourly, “ I’m not a Master yet,”

Her little face close to his and she would whisper,” But you will be, and you will be my teacher Benny!”

Together, they would hunt for different species of flowers, and when they had enough, Ben would thread them gently through her hair and hold her hand as she strolled around after, showing off her new look. When with Rey, Ben couldn’t care less about what others thought. She was like a little Nexu -- if anyone said something to him, they would have to deal with her and her fiery temper. The young Padawan knew that she’d grow up to be a feisty young woman one day, and then, she would be something to fear. Arguing against her would be like plunging head first into a red hot flame.

Ben Solo remembered when his life came crashing down around him.

He had grown into his satellite ears, his once stick thin body had developed, he was now wiry, muscles rippling under a layer of pale, freckled skin. He was able to control the Force -- he felt strong. Until, one night, a breathtaking pain squashed his dreams of a future. It was as if a Rancor had been unleashed in his mind, as images of death and blood flickering through his head. He saw his mother coughing up blood, impaled on a red Saber, his Father falling into a shadow below, his chest stained by a burn. And his Rey, his precious Rey, older, a snarl painted on her face as she lunged forward. Ben saw as all those he loved tell him how pathetic he was, how useless. How Uncle Luke told him he would pass as a Jedi -- he was too Dark.

And the voice was back.

_Who could ever love you? Did you think you were safe? No, I was biding my time, showing you how everyone lies, they don’t care Ben. They hate you -- They’re scared of you! Of your power!_

The teen leapt out of his bed, hands grasping at his ears.

_Please, stop!_

_Leave me alone!_

Relentlessly, he scavenged through his drawers, tossing books aside until he located his treasure.

_Let me help you Ben. I can make you into something great. I’m not scared of you._

Ben help the silver blade in his trembling hands, staring at it. He wanted it to end.

_Yes Ben. Channel that fear, that emotion, it makes you strong._

Hot tears strolled freely down the boy’s cheeks, curling off his chin and exploding onto the ground below. Ben was confused. He wanted to be free, he was sick of being torn, of being pushed away by those he stayed with, of being abandoned by his parents. But, he couldn’t leave his Rey, his spot of sunshine. He couldn’t betray his Uncle, his Master. But, he couldn’t live with the tearing pain residing in his brain anymore.

Swiftly, he brought down the blade. It sliced through his skin like butter, stimulating a hot pain to erupt up his arm. Red dots dress to the the surface, rapidly growing in size until they bubbled over, spilling down his skin as he slashed again and again, biting back screams of pain. The aching brought him to life, he felt real. For the first time in years, he was in control of what was happening to him -- or so the desperate teen thought. For, the whole time he destroyed his skin with the blade, Snoke was sat in the back of his mind, watching as the silver drew red and laughed. Ben dropped the metal, it clattered to the floor as he stared at the wreckage of his arms, feeling some what dizzy as he sobbed uncontrollably

. _Why why why why why why why why why?_

Was all that went through his tormented mind. Snoke grinned, pulling back his scarred skin.

_Because you need me._

Ben Solo remembered that night so clearly. It was the night Ben died and Kylo was born from the shattered pieces.


End file.
